|
Written with her permission
by Kristina Woodhillshe got her first tattoo at 96
decades of loathing
every tattoo
that walked by legging it
swung by arm to arm
meandered by rippling on a muscled back
nodded by on a huge bald pate
so she came to it late at 96
cue the cat puking on the carpet
cue the old lady leaping to action
40 year old mind's rising reaction
96 year old body falling for it
finding her walker a really good trip
kitchen corners and floor in cahoots
skip over the stapled head
ignore bandages protecting arm gashes
stop trying to discern a small broken collar bone
focus on the bathroom mirror
old deep-blue eyes fixed
on a unique method of application
deciding the spreading direction
of purples that defied repetition
and greens soon seeping
and yellows now creeping
as margins of purple, and I'm talking deep,
casually brushed their impressionistic blends
a sea of wildly vivid
an ocean of crashing intensity
a tie-dyed boob
skin daring to speak
a voice
slyly suggesting,
a photo, perhaps?
08/26/2017 Posted on 08/26/2017
Copyright © 2024 Kristina Woodhill
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Rob Littler on 09/02/17 at 04:20 AM Such permanence here, Kristina. Time becoming NOW and then NOT NOW, continuum. |
| Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 09/07/17 at 12:12 PM Quite lovely, the words you've gathered here, Kristina. They all speak vividly and musically to me, particularly the last two stanzas. |
|
